Storm
by contrite shadow
Summary: The Seattle Times, 17th August 2017: "GRAY DAY FOR GREY PUBLISHING. Billionaire's wife abducted in broad daylight." Long one-shot. A future-set sequel to "On the Rocks", "Pebble Beach" and the as yet incomplete "Fusion".


Author's note: A long one, so don't read at work if you value your job. For the full experience, listen to "Storm" by Lifehouse while reading. I've borrowed their lyrics for effect. Something new for me. As always, reviews welcome. Thank you, for reading.

* * *

Storm – a cool and light, medium-tone gray by Benjamin Moore.

She'd endured the lectures, of course, countless cautions from Christian and Taylor, and incredibly tedious drills practicing her role in the event of an emergency; usually involving keeping her head down or running to the panic room. So she knows what to expect. Still, when the attack comes, it happens too fast to remember any of that. Ana barely has time to register that Sawyer is telling her to "Get down and stay down," even as he almost violently shoves her back inside the car. She hears the chime of the doors locking, and sees him draw his sidearm for the first time since she's known him.

Ana still hasn't seen the threat when there's the unmistakable sound of rapid gunfire. Huddled on the floor in the back, she's trying to work out what the hell is going on when the window shatters inwards, showering her with glass petals, and the deafening sound of gunfire hasn't let up. Terrifyingly, Sawyer has disappeared from view. Suddenly, all is quiet and hands are grabbing her. It's not from the side where she last saw her bodyguard, so she fights…she fights _hard_, and is rewarded by the mystery man bellowing in pain and hissing, "Fuck!"

Scrambling into the front seat, she grabs the WorldTracker GPRS, grateful that she held fast against Christian's insistence that she have a tracker fitted permanently to her car. He hadn't liked it, but was forced to acknowledge that giving Ana control of the device was the trusting thing to do. Ana has just enough time to stow it in the waistband of her skirt before a hand grabs her by the throat, dragging her out of the car, and the man growls, "Oh, no you don't, bitch. You're coming with us."

Shoved, still struggling, inside a nondescript white van, that takes off in a squeal of tires, Ana is on her stomach and cries out at the brutal knee between her shoulder blades as her wrists are tightly bound together by what feels and sounds like a large zip-tie. Despite the mind-numbing horror of her situation, she smiles on hearing a muffled, "Fucking bitch broke my nose!"

The pressure on Ana's back suddenly abates. Next, she hears a thud and a growled, "Good! How many weeks? Countless fucking drills. And you almost let her get away. Now, shut the fuck up and give me a hand."

It sounds like there are only the two of them, and they're momentarily distracted. Ana figures that the next stage in the process will be to bind her ankles, so it's now or never. Reliving Taylor's training sessions, she clenches her hands into fists, shuffles them towards her butt and suddenly sits on them. Amazed that it works, despite having practiced without the added terror of her current situation, Ana is suddenly free. Her heightened senses have already processed the sight of one man – his identity protected by a balaclava – holding the other similarly disguised man by the throat while he berates him, unfortunately against the inside of the closed side door through which they entered. Even as both men register that she's unbound, Ana lunges for the rear door handle, but it's no good; she's tackled on the way, her body connecting painfully with the wall of the van. She recognizes the voice of the one who seems in charge when he again subdues her with a knee on her back and exclaims, "Jesus Fucking Christ! How the fuck did you do that?" Without waiting for a reply, he bellows, "Syringe, now! The sooner she's under, the better."

This may be Ana's only chance to communicate with her abductors. Again relying on her training, she says, "My name is Miriam Keogh. I've worked at Grey Publishing for about a year. I don't know why you're doing this. But it won't do you any good. I don't have any money."

Adjusting his position a little, so that she is now subdued by a firm hand on the back of her neck, and one arm bent painfully behind her, the "boss" says, "We know exactly who you are, _Mrs. Grey_. You're clearly better prepared than I expected. But we've prepared for this, too. You won't get away."

It's bad news, but hardly surprising, considering how organized they seem. So Ana tries a different approach, saying, "Then I feel sorry for you."

"Sorry for me?"

"Yes, because you have no idea who my husband is, or you would never have taken me. This is the biggest mistake you've made in your entire life."

His tone heavy with scorn, the man scoffs, "If you're trying to make me believe Mr. Grey won't pay up, you're wasting your breath. I've done my homework."

"Oh, no; he'll pay, whatever you're asking. But, whether or not I find my way back to him, he'll issue an order to have you found, at any cost. Trust me, wherever you hide, he _will_ succeed. And, when he finds you, he'll issue another order to have you killed." Taking a deep breath, she summons every ounce of strength she has and instills iron into her voice to promise, "And, I swear to you, if you harm me, I'll let him."

She struggles again when someone grabs her arm, but it's no good. Between the two of them, they hold her still long enough for the injection and she doesn't get a chance to say anything else to them.

* * *

_How long have I been in this storm, so overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form?_

* * *

Not in all the years he's worked for him has Jason Taylor burst into the GEH office without knocking, so Christian knows it's bad even before his friend and bodyguard says, his face ashen, "Ana's been kidnapped."

With those sickening words, he spins on his heel, knowing that his boss will be right behind him as they race to the parking garage, Christian desperately trying to get through to Ana the whole time.

It's not far from Grey House to GP. But it seems to take forever, even with Taylor committing several traffic violations on the way. Emergency vehicles are everywhere. The area around Ana's car is already roped off with yellow tape, and surrounded by Seattle police officers keeping the growing crowd at bay. Christian is exiting the vehicle before it's completely stopped and he literally grabs the nearest uniformed police officer, saying, "That's my wife's car. Who's in charge?"

By then Taylor is beside his elbow. A shock of recognition in the young officer's eyes, he says, "Uh, yes, Mr. Grey." Pointing to a man in a cheap, gray suit, standing next to an ambulance, he explains, "Detective Barnes."

It's only then that Christian notices Sawyer sitting on the rear steps of the ambulance, one arm in a sling, chest swathed with bandages, his face ashen and body hunched over in obvious pain. He cautiously stands at their approach and says only, "Sir."

Christian motions for him to sit back down and clips, "Just tell me."

"At least three men; one of them driving. It was well planned. They came out of nowhere, and were between us and the door, so I locked An...Mrs. Grey in the car. They opened fire with automatic weapons; M16s, I think. I returned fire but...I…I'm so sorry, sir. I couldn't…they took her."

Christian knows that Ana and the youngest member of their security team have become good friends. It's the reason he tries to make sure that Sawyer is always on duty during the day. Still, he's surprised to see tears in the man's eyes, and wishes that he could join him. But that luxury of expression still doesn't come easy to him. So he settles for what he hopes is a comforting pat on the uninjured shoulder and says, "Not your fault. Get some rest."

The detective, having waited this long, now interjects, "Mr. Grey?" At Christian's nod, he continues, "Barnes. FBI are on the way from Poulsbo. We're making this case a priority. There's one piece of good news. Your man here says that a GPS tracker is missing from the car. Mrs. Grey must have thought to grab it as she was abducted. It's still transmitting. This may be over very soon."

Christian barks a laugh. At their shocked looks, he reveals, "We had a big fight about that. I wanted to fit it under the hood, so I'd know where the car is at all times. But Ana is fiercely independent and only consented on the understanding that she could easily deactivate it if she wished." With the ghoulish nature of his grin the only sign of his distress, he continues, "Said it was the only way she had a hope in hell of surprising me with gifts. Of course, she…"

When Christian's phone peels out Ana's tone, his hands are trembling so much he almost drops it. Not daring to hope that it's really her, he puts it on speaker and answers, "Baby?"

He sobs in relief when Ana's beautiful voice slurs, "Christian? Christian, my feet hurt."

Christian groans at her instruction, attracting Taylor's glance. A male voice says "We'll be in touch," and the call ends.

Taylor knows him well enough to ask, "Her feet hurt?"

Everything in him fighting the idea, Christian's voice is hollow as he says, "After that time she cut her foot, just before we got engaged. It means I'm to defer to you. I promised."

At first surprised, Taylor then asks, "I take it, from your apparent pain, that you intend to honor this promise?" At Christian's reluctant nod, he continues, "In that case, sir, I suggest that we give Ryan full autonomy; equal to me. He's worked Crisis Negotiation and has fresh contacts in the FBI that might be useful. It will save time if he doesn't have to…"

Christian interrupts, "Do it."

Taylor spends only seconds on his phone and then says, "And now you, sir. I need you to go home, and I need you to stay there. We'll get more done if we don't have to expend resources keeping you safe in the field."

"I don't give a fuck about... Fuck! You're right. I'll go." With another groan, as if he really is in physical pain, Christian says, "It'll also save time if you only contact me when something changes, instead of regular updates."

Though it's not a question, Taylor says, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Silently asking for and receiving confirmation from Barnes as he speaks, the bodyguard continues, "Arriving in a police car should get you past the reporters no doubt waiting for you at the house."

Christian only nods to acknowledge that he's heard. Another harsh laugh and, without looking at anyone in particular, he says, "God knows what she's going through, and Ana is still the smartest person in the room. Those fuckers don't stand a chance."

Taylor vehemently assures him, "No, sir. No, they don't."

Just then, Barnes gets a call. He walks a few steps to take it in relative privacy. Less than a minute later, he turns back to three pairs of eyes riveted on him, sighs and says, "_Not_ over very soon. They discovered the tracker. We found it smashed on the side of the road. There's no sign of the kidnappers or Mrs. Grey."

* * *

_Water's getting harder to tread, with these waves crashing over my head._

* * *

Ana is conscious, but groggy, and everything sounds as if it's far away. As expected, her wrists and ankles are now bound, and something covers her eyes. Already, it feels like only a vague memory that she heard Christian's voice on the phone, but it can't have been that long ago, because it feels and sounds like they're still travelling in the van. The kidnapper whose nose she broke is still complaining. And the other man is still telling him to, "Shut the fuck up!"

Suddenly, hands are roaming over her body. She tries to fight, but her drugged brain can't get the message to her limbs. The same voice says, "Easy, Mrs. Grey; just making sure you weren't prepared enough to have a weapon on you." Only seconds later, he finds the tracker and exclaims, "Fuck! Pull over."

A new voice, presumably the driver, says, "What?"

"Pull over. Fucking now!"

The van screeches to a halt and Ana hears the sliding door open. Only seconds later, it slams shut and they're underway again as someone says, "We're going ahead?"

She knows Broken Nose now, because his injury makes him sound so much different than the others, and he says, "Of course we're fucking going ahead. I've put everything I own into this. We make the switch and proceed with the plan. It doesn't matter a fuck if they find the van, right?"

The one apparently in charge says, "Not when I'm done with it."

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Ana doesn't know how much time has passed when the van is stopped and someone is dragging her by her ankles. Again, she futilely tries to fight, and again the voice says, "Easy, Mrs. Grey." Suddenly, she's being carried and is soon put down on her side. There's not much room, and she can feel rough carpet beneath her cheek. A car door slams shut behind her, the whoosh of air as it does so reviving her a little. What feels like only a couple of minutes later, doors open and shut, the vehicle dipping a little as the men get in. She recognizes the distinctive sound of a diesel engine starting, and then they're underway again.

Next time Ana's brain struggles towards wakefulness, she's being carried again. She still can't see anything, but hears Broken Nose whining, "Fucking bitch! I should fucking kill her."

"You're not going to fucking touch her. I warned you. She's been training with a former fucking Olympian for years. I told you to expect a fight. But you never fucking listen."

"You said 'trained is self-defense'; you didn't say she had ninja fucking skills. I think she cracked one of my ribs, too."

"Hopefully it'll improve your hearing. Go and check her room one last time."

Ana is put down on a chair, still bound; so she couldn't flee even if the drugs in her system would permit it. A suddenly subdued Boss quietly says, "Think he left any blood at the scene? They'll have his DNA on file from that sexual assault."

The hushed voice of what she guesses is the driver says, "Dunno. But, like you said, he doesn't listen. And, with his conviction, he's a fucking liability. You know he'd roll on us for a lesser sentence."

There's silence for a few seconds and then, "You'll back me up?"

Driver grimly declares, "Yeah. He's not the only one who's put everything into this. If we back out now, I've got nothing except an open-ended ticket. And the two of us can manage from here."

They're both quiet when Broken Nose returns and says, "Ready."

"Okay. Well, we'd better tuck her in and get to work. Grab her a bottle of water, would you?"

Seconds later there's a gunshot; the shock of it jolting Ana so much that she falls sideways with the chair. Her head hits the floor, but not hard enough to knock her out, and she hears, "Make the call; stick to the script. I'll clean up and get her into…oh, fuck!" None too gentle hands are prodding her scalp, saying, "Mrs. Grey? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Is he dead?"

She can almost feel their surprise at the question and then Boss says only, "Yeah."

Her heart threatening to explode from the overdose of adrenalin coursing through her system, Ana says, "Good."

Apparently undeterred by her manner, Boss extricates her from the chair and lifts her, saying, "Got a fucking live one here, haven't we?"

Driver laughs, saying, "Hain't that the truth. Need anything?"

Boss pauses and asks, "Need tampons, Mrs. Grey? It's the only thing we couldn't find out."

Cursing herself for the reaction, worried that it looks like weakness, Ana blushes as she says, "No, thank you."

"Nope. We're good. Just get it done and get back here."

A few moments later, Boss puts her on a foul-smelling, squeaky mattress and says, "I'll give you another injection. As you can tell, it's only a mild sedative, so don't worry about lasting effects other than gaps in your memory. I just prefer my nose the way it is."

Steeling herself against the expected pain, Ana recognizes that she won't be able to prevent it and holds still while the sharp burn of another dose is administered into her arm. And then she asks, "How could you kill him like that?"

"What happened to 'good'?"

"I'm not going to grieve for him, especially if he was a sexual predator. But…he was your friend, right?"

"Not really. We've worked together before, because he has no compunction about carrying out any order I give him. But he's a jackoff with a vicious temper and a short attention span, who can't keep his dick in his pants; no great loss to the human race, believe me."

Pondering this, Ana can feel the effects of the drug already hitting; a sudden and irresistible need to sleep. Almost impressed by his cleverness, she accuses, "You lied."

Boss chuckles and says, "Yes, ma'am. This one will actually knock you out for a while. I've got a lot to do, including now dispose of a body, and I can't have you exploring while I do so."

Ana is already asleep.

* * *

_I know you didn't bring me out here to drown. So why am I ten feet under and upside down?_

* * *

As expected, the more audacious of Seattle's press are waiting at the front gate; thankfully, along with some of Seattle's finest. Grinding his teeth with the effort of controlling his anger at the vultures who would pick his or Ana's bones clean for a good story, Christian keeps his mask of indifference and Ray Bans firmly in place as his police chauffeur carefully negotiates the small crowd.

Knowing that Ana isn't inside the house makes the normally welcoming building seem somehow _less_ to him; hollow and uninviting. The officer pulls up at the front door and asks, "Want us to walk you in, sir?"

Surprised at the compassion in the woman's voice, given that he's doing a pretty good job of keeping it together, Christian says, "No, thank you. I'll be fine." At the sound of his voice, he realizes that he's not doing so well after all, because it might as well be a robot speaking. There's nothing he can do about that, so he flees the car, muttering thanks to the other officer.

Inside their home, decorated by Ana; an echo of her personality in everything he sees, all Christian's strength leaves him. He's on his hands and knees, puking his guts out, when Reynolds reaches him. Helping him to his feet, the man assures him, "We'll find her, sir. Everyone's on this. We'll get her back."

Trying to process the words, when the roaring sound in his ears threatens to obliterate all else, Christian says, "Welch called you all in? Good."

Leading a slightly wobbly Christian towards the kitchen, Reynolds says, "I'm sure he would have, sir. But we volunteered before he got the chance. Rachel's cancelled her leave; as have others. And Luke refuses to go to hospital, despite a GSW, two cracked ribs and suspected internal bruising, because he wants to be of use in any way he can." Still in shock, Christian is staring at him as he adds, "You're not the only one who…we love Ana, too, sir."

It's too much, and uncharacteristic tears blur Christian's vision as he meekly accepts a bottle of water from his employee, eventually finding the strength to blink them away and say, "Thank you."

Reynolds nods once, his eyes kind. As Christian drinks, he says, "No news since you left the scene. Welch is pulling out all the stops. There's an extraction team on their way, just in case they're needed. Ryan has autonomy?"

"Yeah."

Reynolds cautiously nods and says, "Good; deniability." At Christian's confusion, he explains, "We'll work with law enforcement where possible, because that's best for everyone, but…"

Guessing that the security team is trying to protect him if they break the law finding Ana, Christian growls, "You think I give a fuck about consequences?"

His spine straightening indignantly, Reynolds, "No. But _she_ does. Mrs. Grey won't thank us if we retrieve her just so she can visit you in prison."

Remembering that the man standing before him would, and has, risked his life to protect him, Christian immediately regrets his tone and says, "Fuck. You're right. I'm sorry. I just…fuck!"

Finally smiling a little, Reynolds says, "Yes, sir. You're doing great. Doctor Flynn is on his way."

"Well, tell him to turn the fuck around. I don't need him."

In a gentle tone, Reynolds reminds him, "The pile of puke by the front door would suggest otherwise, sir."

It's not enough to elicit even a smile from Christian, but it does relax him a little and he says, "You're all just going to bully me until we get her back, aren't you?"

With a fierce grin, Reynolds confirms, "Yes, sir."

Standing on now steady legs, Christian sighs and says, "Well, I'd better clean said pile, before Gail finds it. Where is she, anyway?"

Surprised, Reynolds says, "I thought you ordered…? She's picking up the children, and will take them to your parents' house."

As if struck a crippling blow, Christian slides down the cupboards to sit on the floor, unconsciously curling his legs towards his chest. His head drops to his knees and he keens, "They'll be frantic. What sort of father forgets his own kids?"

All propriety forgotten, Reynolds squats before Christian and grabs him by the hair to lift his head. His face a picture of concern, his tone is nevertheless firm when he says, "One who loves his wife very much. The kids are fine. Phoebe isn't old enough to understand any of this, and Teddy will just be thrilled to get out of school. We can work out what to tell him later. Right now, you need to get your shit together. Because, if you can't cope, we'll drug your ass and you'll sleep until this is all over. Is that what you want, Christian?"

The thought of what nightmares his current situation might bring make the prospect of sleep truly terrifying. His fear almost immediately morphs into defensive anger, and Christian snarls, "I'd like to see you fucking try!"

Clapping Christian encouragingly on the shoulder, Reynolds offers him a fierce grin and says, "Atta boy. Hang on to that rage. Now get your ass up and…" When the doorbell rings, he stands, with the murmured prayer, "Please, God, let that be Flynn."

* * *

_Barely surviving has become my purpose, because I'm so used to living underneath the surface._

* * *

Someone is slapping Ana, thankfully very gently, and saying, "Time to wake up, Mrs. Grey. Your husband needs to know you're still alive."

Her head fuzzy, her tongue cotton wool, Ana's senses convey a few disturbing facts to her; handcuffs on wrists and ankles, efficient blindfold over eyes and cold air on torso. But one physical need overrides all those concerns, and she manages to rasp, "Thirsty."

Boss says, "We'll take care of that when we're done. But the FBI will be involved by now. So we're on a schedule. We've removed everything except your underwear. Try not to worry about that. It's just for effect, to remind your husband that we're in control. If he cooperates, nothing worse than this will happen to you."

The lingering drug-induced fugue receding, Ana says, "You can't possibly care how I feel about this situation; you kidnapped me."

Boss chuckles and says, "No, I don't. Not really. I'm a professional. I care only that you're compliant and don't give us any trouble. Because said compliance is one of the factors that will ensure a happy outcome for everyone. Do you understand?"

She knows him now…knows his type; dominant personality. So Ana quickly settles into her meek, submissive persona and "fearfully" utters, "Yes, sir."

Confident that she'd guessed correctly, Ana still feels a thrill of triumph at her cleverness when he again chuckles and says, "Good girl." Helping her to sit up, he continues, "I'm going to remove your blindfold. You'll see that we're again wearing the balaclavas. This is not to scare you. Anonymity is another factor in our success and your safe release. Understood?"

This time Ana settles for biting her bottom lip and nodding. Then she dares to ask, "Did you kill my bodyguard?"

Finally, some compassion in his tone as he says, "No, ma'am. We aimed for the torso. Like I said, I'm a professional. You already know that I won't hesitate to kill when necessary. But I'll avoid it if I can. Apparently, he took a round in the shoulder. But the rest would have impacted or just barely punctured his vest. He'll probably be ready for work in month or so."

Breathing her first sigh of relief since she the attack, Ana says, "Thank you. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing."

The blindfold is suddenly gone. Ana blinks like crazy when the painfully bright light assaults her eyes. As they adjust, she recognizes Driver pointing a compact video camera at her. It's recording. Boss puts a newspaper on her lap, and she glances at the upside down heading, "GRAY DAY FOR GREY PUBLISHING. Billionaire's wife abducted in broad daylight." She can't read the article, but there's a photo of her car as a crime scene. Even from this angle, Ana instantly recognizes Christian's shock of red hair in the picture. The sight causes her pain, so she closes her eyes. She has just enough time to feel anger that they've described her only as "wife" before Boss viciously thrusts a rifle barrel against her neck, eliciting a shocked yelp for her, even as he grabs her hair, pulling her face up towards the camera. Just as quickly, it's over, and Driver is saying, "Perfect; suitably terrified. You did good, Mrs. Grey."

Surprised at how paradoxically polite her captors are, Ana is still trembling when she says, "Uh, not a problem. I can fake terrified even under these circumstances."

It's hard to tell with the balaclava covering most of his face, but Driver seems to smile at her before grabbing the newspaper and leaving the room. Boss hands Ana an uncapped bottle of water and says, "Drink the lot. We won't be back for a while." When she hesitates, he asks, "Drugs or bladder?"

"Yes."

"I _will_ drug you; pills this time, so you'll be out for a while. But the water is clean." Producing a bedpan, in which rests a roll of toilet paper and a travel pack of wet wipes, he continues, "Not five star, but adequate. You can use the blanket for privacy, but there's no camera in here and I'll leave you for the duration. We're not perverts."

Ana nods her understanding, noting with dismay that making enough noise to attract help is apparently not an option. Satisfied that she has no choice about the drugs, but is in no danger of wetting the bed, Ana greedily drinks the water. She's almost finished when Boss shows two pills on his open palm. Looking at what she can see of his face; brown eyes and a thin-lipped mouth, she sees no weakness there. So, the move made awkward by the handcuffs, she opens one of her hands to accept them and swallows the pills. Boss then opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue through the hole in his balaclava, looking almost comical for a second. Immediately understanding, Ana copies the gesture, showing that she's not tricking him. She finishes the water and asks, "May I use the facilities?"

That, at least, elicits a smile from him and he takes the empty bottle. When Ana holds out her cuffed hands, he shakes his head and places the bedpan on them, saying, "You'll just have to manage. I'll be back in ten minutes. Those pills won't take effect for a while, so you don't have to worry about falling asleep midstream." He seems to find this funny, so Ana manages a smile. Without another word, he leaves the room and she hears some sort of lock click into place.

Somehow accomplishing the task without making a mess, Ana scans the room for anything she might use to escape. But there's nothing. There are no visible windows. Almost every wall appears to be covered by foam padding, and she wonders if it's to dampen sound. Other than the metal-framed bed, there's no furniture. Her ankles are cuffed, separately, to the rail at the bottom of the bed, permitting some freedom of movement, but not much. Right now her hands are cuffed together, but Ana wonders if they're attached to the metal bedhead when she's sleeping, because her shoulders feel a strain familiar from play. The idea turns her thoughts to Christian, so she desperately pushes them aside, her eyes burning with unshed tears, because she's simply not strong enough to picture him without falling apart. Squirming around, she looks under the bed, to see only dust bunnies. With no way of telling time, to know when her captor will return, she pushes the bedpan away from her, putting the toilet roll and wipes near her grimy pillow.

The sound of the door unlocking makes her heart beat faster. Recognizing Boss' body shape, she keeps her posture and gaze deferential as he approaches. Without a word, he replaces the blindfold, then says, "Lie down." Silently obeying, Ana feels him release one wrist. Before she has time to decide whether or not to fight him, she's again cuffed, this time to the bedhead. The utter hopelessness of her situation finally getting to her, Ana is gasping with the effort of not weeping. Boss pulls the blanket over her body and leaves. Only as the lock clicks into place does Ana's tortured mind process what he just said, "Sleep well."

* * *

_If I could just see you, everything would be all right. If I'd see you, this darkness would turn to light._

* * *

By the time Christian enters the great room, it's been turned into a makeshift headquarters for the FBI team and several security personnel, some of whom Christian doesn't even recognize. Even these new faces are furtively offering him sympathetic looks, until he wants to scream at them. He catches Taylor's eye, only to receive silent confirmation that, despite all efforts, nothing has changed.

Whatever medication Flynn gave him appears to be working, though this horrible lack of emotion feels a little too much like disappearing; like when he was a boy. But at least it got him through the phone call with his family, Teddy included. Telling him that "Mommy is busy" was the closest he's come to lying to his son. Carrick's compassion had, typically, been sincere but somewhat contained. Growing up it had always seemed that his father was a calm place in any storm; meting out punishment and praise alike, as deserved. Grace's tears had been evident in her voice, and Christian fled the conversation before he ended up in a fetal position on the floor, sucking his thumb and blubbering like a baby.

Gail has been busy, and Christian wonders if constant cooking is her way of coping. He's thinking that the spread of food on the kitchen counter is enough for a small army when it occurs to him that it's exactly what they have. Tempting as it looks, Christian can't make himself eat. He's feigning interest in a cup of coffee when Reynolds enters and whispers something to Ryan, handing him a small package as he does so. As Christian approaches, Ryan explains, "For you; delivered to the gate. The courier's been detained, but I doubt it will lead to anything. It's too easy to anonymously hire a messenger. It contains account details for payment and a memory card, probably the proof of life we asked for."

Utterly confused, Christian says, "Who the fuck opened it?"

Reynolds' posture straightens defensively at his tone, but he doesn't hesitate to say, "I did, sir."

Fury only a moment away, Christian growls, "And who the fuck told you to do that?"

It's Ryan who explains, "No one, sir. Because not even _you_ could order him to open mail that hadn't been tested for explosives or biohazards. Reynolds volunteered, to save time. Do you need more, or shall we get on with finding your wife?"

Ryan looks almost guilty at the last sentence, but he doesn't back down. Almost horrified at the depths of loyalty his staff has shown today, Christian gestures helplessly in supplication to Reynolds and can only manage, "Dave…."

"It's all right, sir. You weren't to know. Mind if I offer some advice?" When Christian meekly nods, Reynolds continues, "Prepare yourself for Mrs. Grey looking…well, they always make it look worse than it is, to ensure that you'll do whatever they say. If you don't think you can keep it together, might be best if you let us and the Feds look at it first."

Desperate for any sign of Ana, Christian swallows his fear and says, "We're wasting time."

Worried that they'll notice that his hands are trembling and forbid him, Christian breathes a sigh of relief when Reynolds says, "Yes, sir."

Using every relaxation technique he's learned, Christian is calm when they insert the card in a spare laptop and open the file. Still, he can't help a moan of distress at the sight of Ana, in only bra and panties, with a gun held to her neck and clearly terrified. But then he notices something and asks Flynn, "Did you see it?"

Flynn is beaming and says, "I did."

"Play it again." The agent does so, and Christian points to the screen, saying "There," at the point where Ana taps her left hand twice. Finally with something to smile about, he tells everyone except Flynn, "It's a code we have; a reminder for me to relax and trust her." He manages a weak laugh and adds, "Even kidnapped, she's still bossing me around."

* * *

_And I will walk on water._

* * *

The next time balaclava'd Boss wakes her, Ana gratefully empties the bottle of water and asks, "How long have I been here?"

"Not long; it's about eleven hours since we took you."

Shocked that she's lost an entire day, Ana then asks, "Is there a problem getting the money?"

"Worried that he won't pay after all?" When Ana only offers a quiet smile, he continues, "Not even your husband has that much cash handy. He had to liquidate stocks. We expected this."

Ana hates that she's curious, but asks, "How much?"

"Sixty million dollars. You'll be pleased to know that he didn't even haggle. This should be over soon and you'll never see me again."

"I haven't seen you now."

Boss chuckles and says, "True. But you know my voice and part of my visage, so I'll ultimately be buried on foreign shores. Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

Producing an energy bar from his pocket, Boss peels back the wrapper a little and places it in her hands, saying, "I'm afraid it's the best I can do."

"Thank you."

When she's done, Boss takes the wrapper and places the cleaned bedpan on her lap, then heads for the door as he reminds her, "Ten minutes."

Wondering why the alarm bells in her head are getting louder, Ana removes the distraction of her full bladder and pushes the pan aside, cleaning her hands as best she can with the wipes. Thankfully, she's again calm when Boss returns, presumably exactly on time, though she still has no way of knowing for sure. He puts the pan under the bed and then produces what looks like a brand new but very basic cellphone. Without a word, he dials and holds it by her ear as he says, "Someone wants a word before transferring the money."

Ana doesn't dare to hope that he's really letting her talk to Christian. But then the voice she'd recognize even from her grave says, "Baby? That you?" A thousand words of joy and sorrow run through her head, but all Ana can manage is a strangled sob. Christian makes a similar sound and then says, "Not long now, baby. Hang in there. I love you."

Tears streaming down her face, Ana makes a snap decision and is surprisingly calm when she utters the truth she's just this second found the courage to accept, "I'm sorry, darling, but he's going to kill me."

Of course, the phone is snatched from her ear. Ana braces for the blow. But it doesn't come. Still, there's fury in his tone when Boss asks, even as he dissects the phone, "Why the fuck would you do that?"

Daring to meet his gaze, Ana says, "Because it's true."

With a visible struggle to keep his anger in check, he asks, "Have I not treated you with respect; even compassion? What the fuck makes you think I'm going to kill you? "

Momentarily distracted by a throbbing vein on his forehead, Ana explains, "You've done this before, but you've never been in prison, presumably because no accurate description of you exists. Even with the disguise, I know your height, build and some of your features, so I'm guessing you've remained anonymous by killing your victims; I already know you're capable of doing so. Until now, you've done only what is necessary for my health; feeding me after less than twenty-four hours isn't, so I think that was either to appease your guilt or ensure I sounded okay on the phone…maybe a bit of both. That's a basic cellphone for a reason; they can't get a precise location from it. But you must know that law enforcement will trace it to the nearest tower, and be descending on this area very soon, so we're near the end of our time together. Also, you didn't drug me this time, which can only mean you're going to release me or kill me…I'd say release me, because Christian was about to make you _very_ rich, except that, when you put the pan under the bed just now, I saw that you're carrying a sidearm for the first time since we got here."

His voice filled with wonder, Boss asks, "Who the fuck _are_ you?"

Ana smiles a little at the compliment and explains, "Like you said; I've prepared for this. Our senior security officer has been coaching me for years about what to do when I was eventually abducted. It's testament to his ability, and my husband's paranoia, that no one succeeded before now." When Boss does nothing, not even deny any of it, she asks, "Were you going to kill me straight away, or wait until Christian transferred the money?"

Coolly considering her for a few seconds, Boss then says, "Always after the transfer, just in case." Shaking his head, he adds, "Though I've never had this particular problem."

Cursing her weakness, Ana's voice almost fails her when she asks, "Are you…will you still kill me?"

Suddenly, the pistol is held to her temple and Boss growls, "I should." Wondering if she'll stay conscious for her own death, Ana's heart is fit to explode when, just as quickly, the gun is gone and he says, "But you made a promise."

Utterly confused, her shattered nerves threatening her sanity, Ana gasps, "What?"

"Have I harmed you, Mrs. Grey?"

"You mean apart from tearing me from my family, brutally subduing me, keeping me in squalid conditions and intending to kill me?"

"Exactly."

Daring to hope that she might see Christian again after all, Ana cautiously says, "No, you haven't harmed me. I won't let him kill you…not sure that I could ever do that anyway."

Boss appears to grin, though it's hard to tell with the ever-present balaclava, and he says, "Every sane person thinks that, until the first time they're forced to kill." Standing, he continues, "Well, I won't say it's been a pleasure, because that would be a lie; you're a fucking pain in the arse and have cost me a lot of money. But it's been interesting. Goodbye, Mrs. Grey."

Still disbelieving, Ana asks, "You're not going to kill me?"

"I would, if I had thirty million dollars to disappear forever. The chance that your husband might track me down means I need you on my side. The only way I could get that money now is to move you and re-negotiate…I'm not even sure that's possible now, especially with what I presume are scores of cops breathing down my neck. As Sun Szu says; if hopelessly outnumbered, it's time to fuck off."

Finally daring to feel optimistic, Ana grins and says, "I'm not sure that's a direct quote." Then she remembers something and says, "What about your partner?"

"With his part of the job done, he's already fucked off. I'll meet him later. He won't be happy, but he'll understand; failure is always an option. And I need to be gone. If you can convince your husband not to look for me, we'll never meet again." When Boss suddenly grabs her cuffed hands, Ana prepares for a fight. But he only kisses her cheek and says, "Relax. They'll be here soon."

When he stands, the cell phone and battery are in her hands. Boss is almost to the door when she says, "Thank you."

Without turning around, Boss says, "Fuck you, too."

* * *

_And you will catch me if I fall._

* * *

No longer able to stand without assistance, Christian is leaning on Taylor's arm as the tac team enter the cabin. Cursing his weakness, he literally whimpers when he hears a shot. Taylor reassures him, "Just blowing a lock. Not long now."

The excited energy coming from the man is palpable and Christian realizes that he's not the only one having trouble waiting, so he says, "Did I thank you yet?"

"No need, sir."

When Taylor suddenly tenses, Christian follows his gaze to see a petite figure swathed in a gray blanket, being carried out by one of the officers, to spontaneous applause from the many people gathered nearby. Somehow willing his torpid legs to obey, he meets them halfway. On seeing him, Ana wriggles free and practically throws herself into his arms, breathing his name like a prayer. With what little strength remains in him, Christian manages to not let Ana knock him down, and they sink to their knees together, there to just hold each other as if nothing else exists. His emotions too deep for words, he hauls her onto his lap and mutely cradles her to him, gently pushing her tangled hair aside so that he can better see her face. Ana, one hand resting on his chest, smiles up at him and says, "I was so worried about you."

Christian chokes on his laugh and finds the strength to say, "Worried about me? Baby, for two whole minutes, I thought you were dead; longest fucking minutes of my life. I fucking lost it."

Reaching up to caress his cheek, Ana says, "I didn't know what else to do. Why do you sound funny?"

By Christian's side, where he's been since this morning, John Flynn wearily intones, "Because I gave him enough sedative to knock out a horse. He shouldn't even be conscious."

So Ana knows that Christian must have been through hell in those two minutes before her trembling fingers had replaced the battery in the cellphone and she'd called him back, and stayed on the line, reassuring him and giving a detailed description of her captors, until the battery went flat, just before they finally found her. "I'm so sorry. But he confessed; he really was going to kill me after the money was transferred. I couldn't bear the thought of you waiting for a call that would never come, and I had no way of knowing how close you were."

Almost falling into a kiss, Christian eventually draws back enough to rest his forehead against hers and apologize, "And I couldn't tell you, or he would have become desperate and maybe killed you anyway. Let's not do this again."

Smiling a little at the memory, Ana says, "That's what you said when I cut my foot. Did you get my message?"

Glancing up at the tower of vigilance beside him, Christian says, "Yes. And he was far too happy to give me orders."

Ana smiles at the man whose careful lessons helped her cope with the ordeal she's just endured. With no adequate words to express her gratitude, she settles for, "Hi, Jay."

Taylor inclines his head in greeting, the gesture made less formal by the slight curve of his mouth, and says, "Welcome back, Mrs. Grey."

Ana laughs, idly wondering when she last did that, and says, "Still not 'Ana'?"

Beaming at her, Taylor insists, "No, ma'am." To Christian he says, "Sir, the paramedics?"

Reluctantly dragging his gaze from his wife's face, Christian glances at the medical technicians waiting nearby, and says, "Okay. But I'm staying with her." When Ana groans, he frowns and asks, "You're hurt?"

"No. Like I said, I'm fine; mostly just caught up on sleep. But I just realized; Protective Christian is going to be in overdrive for a while, isn't he?"

Constantly blinking with the effort of not weeping in front of this large audience, Christian wearily smiles and promises, "Abso-fucking-lutely."

Clutching the blanket tighter against the cold night air, Ana stands and helps Christian to his feet as she says, "Well, for a while, maybe I won't mind so much."

* * *

_And I will get lost into your eyes._

* * *

Despite there being not much wrong with her – other than a few bruises, strained shoulder and abrasions from hours spent in handcuffs – Christian persuades Ana to stay overnight in the hospital. Satisfied that she's safe, he had finally succumbed to the sedative and fallen asleep in the chair by her bed. Ana is just staring at him, marveling at the miracle of being able to do so, when she'd been so certain of never seeing him again.

A gentle knock at the door drags her attention from him. Smiling at an apprehensive Sawyer, she motions him in as she says, "Luke. Thank God. They told me you were okay, but…anyway, I'm glad that…." Giving up on the hopeless task of articulating how worried she'd been about him, Ana gestures to the sling on his arm and concludes, "I guess you've earned yourself some time off?"

Brightening a little at her tone, Sawyer warily eyes Christian as he approaches, quietly saying, "I guess so. They didn't hurt you?"

Flourishing her bandaged wrists, Ana says, "No. Just too long in handcuffs."

She finally recognizes her favorite bodyguard in his cheeky grin as he says, "And after all that time practicing how to get out of them."

Rising to the bait, Ana indignantly points out, "Hey, I was barely conscious the whole time. And, even if I'd got my hands free, Taylor never showed me how to get metal cuffs past my heel. I doubt you could have done any better."

Suddenly serious, Sawyer declares, "I doubt anyone could."

Recoiling from the heavy emotion in his tone, Ana shakes her head a little, saying, "Luke, please don't make me cry. I've been doing so well."

Sawyer nods his understanding and glances around for a change of subject. Motioning to Christian, he says, "You would have been proud how he handled it. Kept it together right up until…" At the sudden pained look on Ana's face, he amends, "Until just before he knew you were safe."

"How did you all get there so quick? That cellphone battery was only partly charged. I was worried it would cut out before you got a fix on my location."

"The tracker. They discarded it pretty quickly, but it gave us a direction. With everyone searching, we soon found the warehouse where they swapped vehicles. We got the jeep from security footage and discovered their route out of town using traffic cams. Obviously, the rest was guesswork, but we had enough people in the area to quickly find the cabin. Ana, I'm so sorry. I couldn't stay conscious."

Mortified that he feels even a twinge of guilt over her abduction, Ana draws him into an awkward embrace, saying, "Hey, we always knew that a determined effort couldn't be stopped; not if I want any sort of life at all. That's why Jay's been preparing me all this time. This wasn't your fault. I'm just glad you're okay."

At first resisting, Sawyer then succumbs to the embrace; eventually standing as he surreptitiously wipes a hand across his eyes and says, "Yeah, back at you."

Glad that he seems more relaxed, Ana gently punches his good shoulder and says, "You're still a wuss."

Beaming at her, Sawyer says, "Yes, ma'am." Apparently now at ease, he says, "I'd better go. Cindy only let me out of her sight if I promised to come straight back. She sends her best."

Ana nods and says, "Say hello for me. Please reassure her that you won't suffer financially while you're healing. In fact, I predict an embarrassingly large check coming your way very soon." With a shrug, she adds, "I'm not quite sure it's enough, but it's all we have."

"I didn't actually do anything except get shot."

Not genuinely angry, Ana glares at him and says, "You risked your life for me. No amount of money can pay for that. But you also locked me in the car. That gave me enough time to think of grabbing the tracker. Despite being so prepared, these guys never really stood a chance, because of people like you. Understood?"

Putting up his hands in mock defense, Sawyer says, "Okay, Ana, okay. I helped, too. Happy?"

"Quite. Now get back to your wife. I don't want to see you until you're completely better."

Sawyer leaves, cheerfully muttering, "Can't catch a break; bossed around here and at home."

Ana is just getting back to her new hobby of staring at her husband when Christian suddenly opens his eyes and says, "If you're going to fondle our staff, could you please have the decency to do it when I'm not in the room?"

It's been a long time since Christian was insecure enough to feel jealous of their security staff, especially the happily married ones, so Ana merely smiles and says, "Hello, sleepy head."

Christian joins her in the bed, Ana readily making room for him. Safe again in each other's arms, they reconnect with a long, passionate kiss, and then he touches his nose to hers and says, "Hello. Can I get you anything?"

"Just this. Thanks, for pretending you stayed asleep. Luke is still nervous of you after all this time."

Christian tries and fails to look fierce when he declares, "Good." He's smiling when he asks, "I presume you don't have a problem with me making him rich?"

Ana beams her gratitude at him and says, "I was hoping you'd say that." Her solemn intentions wiping the smile from her face, she nervously almost bites her lip and then finds the courage to beg, "I need to see him."

Proving that he's understood, Christian's face drains of all color and his entire body tenses, so she's not very surprised when the answer is a firm, "No. If it takes everything we own, you won't even see him for the trial. I'm prepared to let him live, only because he didn't kill you when he had the chance. But you'll never have to see that fucker again. He's going to spend the rest of his life in prison."

Despite not being with him for the duration, Ana knows what it must have cost Christian to cope with the abduction; her death is the one fear that he's never been able to put aside. She also knows that pleading or threatening will only make his refusal more adamant. So she takes a deep breath and says, "It's not really about him. It's about my fear. I _need_ to face him, or I'll be terrified for the rest of my life. You understand better than anyone what sort of hell that would be. I'll consent to any conditions you feel comfortable with, but I _will_ do this, with or without you."

She watches with pride and love as Christian's sudden anger at her declaration slowly vanishes while he seriously considers her plea. But then he buries his face against her neck and says, "Please, baby, just give me tonight? Let's not have a worry in the world for just one night."

Recognizing it as compliance, Ana cradles him to her as she says, "How about a day as well? We can pick up the kids first thing in the morning and spend all day on the boat; just the four of…well, just the five or six of us, anyway. I know you'll need some sort of protection with us for a while, even within sight of shore."

A muffled "Thank you," is his only response. They stay like that for a while and then Christian lifts his head to grin at her and say, "Kind of wish you'd put up more of a fight about staying here overnight."

Of course, Ana can feel his growing erection through the thin cotton blanket. Suddenly carefree, she laughs and says, "Christian, I'm fine. I assume there're forms to fill out, but we can leave at any time. And, so long as you're content to forgo restraints, we can fuck in any room of the house, like before the kids were born."

His entire countenance brightening at the thought, Christian quickly kisses her and says, "Mrs. Grey, that's quite possibly the best plan you've ever had."

* * *

_I know everything will be all right._

* * *

Despite being certain that it's necessary, Ana's fear at facing her captor is increasing by the second as she endures the security protocol for entering the Federal Detention Center. Christian is, of course, watching her like a hawk, no doubt hoping she'll change her mind. She offers him a weak smile, to show that she's okay. This rising anxiety is the very reason why she needs to face Boss. If she can do that, then she can get on with her life and hope that his failure will deter other attacks on her family.

Taylor was even less keen than Christian to let Ana go through with this. But he's here, their rock; the only sign of his reluctance the tight clench of his jaw. She doesn't know what sort of strings their team pulled to get his private interview, but she's grateful, because "Captive meets captor" would be too tempting a headline if word got out why she's here. Without a word, the senior CO leads her to a closed door and says, "You're sure?"

Ana has spoken to him on the phone, and says, "Yes. Thank you, Jim. I'm ready."

Jim nods and says, "Remember what I said; he'll be sitting down across a small table from you, manacled and cuffed to the floor. Even if he tries something, he can't reach you. As per regs, the camera is running. But there's no sound and only I'll be watching it." Now looking Christian in the eye, he adds, "I can't let you hurt him."

Apparently suffering the same symptom as their bodyguard, Christian's jaw bulges when he grits his teeth before saying, "I won't."

Before he's asked, Taylor monotones, "I'm just here to protect my employers."

With that, Jim opens the door and lets them in. Seeing Boss – she knows it's him even without the balaclava – Ana's already overworked heart threatens to pound through her ribcage. She's dimly aware that the CO who'd been watching over him leaves. At Christian's reassuring hand on the small of her back, she finds the courage to approach and sit down, as the prisoner says, "Hello again, Mrs. Grey."

"Hello, Boss."

He grins at that and says, "Boss? That's your name for me?"

Ana shrugs and says, "I was close, wasn't I? They tell me your name is King."

With a wary nod, he says, "Why the meet and greet? Change your mind about killing me?"

"No. I promised. Though my daughter cried herself to sleep when I wasn't there to tuck her in last night. And today I had to explain the word 'kidnap' to my young son, because he's old enough to understand why his friends will be using it when he returns to school on Monday. These are your real crimes in my eyes. No, I'm here so that I could be the one to tell you that your partner, Bill, has been arrested at his home in Halifax. Extradition procedures are under way, and I'll pick him out of a lineup. Are you one hundred percent confident that he won't give you up for a lesser sentence?"

The sudden fear in his eyes is the reason she's here. Quickly covering, he says, "You're bluffing. They must have chosen that name from known associates."

Having achieved her goal, Ana is already weary of the process, but continues, "I've no reason to bluff. Despite your care, there were clues; Bill used 'hain't' in conversation, which I've only heard from a Canadian colleague of mine. Once I noticed that, I really paid attention and noticed a couple of other idiosyncrasies. Your speech is a little too correct…too British, to be entirely American, though you've both spent a lot of time here, I think. And you pronounced 'visage' like a Frenchman. I worked out that you've served in the military, so figured that your partners have, too. With that and the patchy descriptions I was able to provide, they were at his home waiting for him. And they have your DNA now. The FBI are reopening kidnapping cases that ended badly. How many will match the methods you used to detain me? Did you ever murder a hostage in a state that still enforces the death penalty?"

"What happened to your promise, Mrs. Grey?"

"It stands. Christian is a man of his word and has assured me that he won't have a hand in your death. _I'm_ the one who will be pushing for this. With sixty million dollars handy I could just have you killed…it would be done before I got home." Ana waits for that fact to sink in and return the fear to his eyes, before saying, "But then I would be a little like you. Instead, I'm going to spend whatever it takes to ensure that you're punished for your crimes."

His tone not quite pleading, King says, "This wasn't personal, Mrs. Grey."

The speed and intensity of her sudden wrath at these words leaves Ana light-headed. Taking a moment to control her need for violence, she's only trembling a little when she declares, "It is now."

Standing, before she gives in the urge to reach across the table and throttle him, the three of them are almost to the door when King says, "I took the wrong Grey, didn't I?"

Christian forestalls Ana's answer with a hand on her arm and doesn't even look back to say, "Yes. Ana's the strong one. She doesn't even need your death to feel safe. But I do. I'll be there at your execution."

Outside the room, Ana's strength fails her and she has to lean against a wall while her legs recover. Jim is already there and asks, "Can I get you anything; glass of water?"

Smiling, to ease all their concerned faces, Ana says, "No. I'm fine, thank you. I just really want to hurt that man."

Jim nods his understanding and reveals, "Apparently, he's not popular. We've already had to remove him from the general population because of attacks. Know anything about that?"

Genuinely surprised, Ana manages to keep from looking at Christian when she says, "No, nothing. Though I can't pretend to be disappointed."

Grateful when Jim leaves it at that, Ana thanks him and is able to move on. Once safe with Christian in the back seat of the car, heading home, she asks, "You arranged the attacks?"

"Not me, though I only promised not to kill him; you made no mention of grievous bodily harm. And I don't want to get anyone in trouble. But I will tell you that, when I made enquiries about how one would go about ensuring that a prisoner's life become a living hell, I was told that it wasn't necessary."

Still too wound up to laugh at his formal speech and none-too-subtle gestures to their driver, Ana nevertheless smiles and says, "Thank you, Taylor."

Without even a glance in the mirror, he deadpans, "I'm not sure for what, but you're welcome, ma'am."

They're all quiet for a while, and then Ana says to Christian, "Thank you, for keeping your cool in there. And for understanding why I needed to do that."

"Did it work?"

Ana gives it some thought and says, "I think so. I feel less…before, when I pictured him, he seemed larger in my mind. But he's just a man." Smiling, she adds, "A balding man, as it happens. I didn't guess that."

Christian smiles and says, "He certainly didn't look that scary. If you hadn't reacted so strongly on seeing him, I would have thought they'd got the wrong man, despite catching him fleeing the scene." Studying her face for a while, Christian then continues, "Still, you've been through a lot, so you'll see Brandt?"

Knowing that his nagging comes from concern for her, Ana quells her irritation at his tone and says, "I promised, didn't I? But I honestly feel okay. I just want to go home and get started on putting this behind us."

"Another excellent plan. You up for a small celebration?"

With a wicked grin, Ana murmurs, "What do you have in mind, Mr. Grey?"

Christian chuckles and says, "That, too. In the meantime I was thinking of something a little more family friendly; pizza and the Disney Channel?"

With Christian's concern for his family's health making takeout a rare treat, Ana leaps at the chance, asking, "Our whole family?"

Gazing lovingly into her eyes, he says, "Taylor, do you have dinner plans?"

"No, sir. I'm sure Gail will appreciate it. She and Sophie love minding the children, but the youngest Greys are a little excitable this evening."

Ana giggles, knowing that "excitable" most likely means Teddy is playing sports indoors and Phoebe is practicing her tantrum-throwing skills, and says, "I'm so sorry."

That brings his eyes to the mirror for a second, and Taylor's voice is filled with affection when he says, "No need, ma'am. I'm just glad things are back to normal."

_I know everything is alright_

* * *

Where credit's due: PerhapsPerhapsPerhaps, for inspiring my first songfic.

anisurnois, for the idea of Ana being able to recognize Christian's voice even after she's dead.


End file.
